


On Tuesday

by Khalehla



Series: Not the usual OTPs [9]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Breaking down misconceptions, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, M/M, Rival Relationship, Slow Build, rivals to friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: Lionel is stressed, so on Tuesday he goes for a drive. He then stops and goes for a walk, only for the heavens to open. He gets lost trying to run back to his car, and stumbles upon a B&B and decides to stay overnight. It’s the beginning of an adventure for him that leads to self-discovery, and a peace that he never knew he could have, or even needed as a footballer…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 2017 writing resolutions: 1) finish off the WIPs, and 2) explore new pairings. This is my first attempt at #2

He’s standing in front of the house, getting increasingly soaked and he has to make a decision soon or else it will be too late. He can try to make a run for the car, possibly get lost through the trees and make the situation worse, or he could knock on the door, hope for the kindness of strangers and stay until the storm passes.

In the end, another flash of lightning and a roar of thunder makes the decision for him, and he knocks on the door as well as presses the buzzer, hoping the owners are home.

After what seems like an eternity, the door creaks open and a face about a meter off the floor looks up at him curiously.

“You’re very wet,” a girl of about ten says.

Lionel laughs, somehow embarrassed. “A little bit,” he agrees.

The girl frowns. “More than a little bit,” she says. “You’re going to catch cold.”

Lionel’s not sure what to say to that, when the door opens wider and a lady who looks to be in her mid-sixties, is standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen when she sees him, and yanks at his arm, hauling him into the hallway.

“What it the world possessed you to be outside without an umbrella when you knew it was going to rain today?” she admonishes him, and Lionel squirms under her gaze even as he drips onto her wooden floors.

He decides responding is not a good idea, especially since he’s too embarrassed to admit he hadn’t listened to the weather forecast and ignored the grey skies, but she just tuts at him, then heads towards a door in the hallway that looks to be a linen closet because she takes out two large fluffy towels and waves at him to follow her.

“You’re lucky Cri-, our regular guest isn’t in this week,” she says, even as she leads him to the downstairs bathroom. “I’m not normally in on Tuesday because we like to give him some privacy when he’s over - God knows he needs it - but he called to say he wasn’t coming because of the weather, and so here we are.” She hands him the towels. “Strip, and throw your clothes in the dryer. I’ll go get you some pajamas while we wait for your stuff to dry.”

Lionel doesn’t have time to do more than mumble “thank you” before she closes the door behind him. He's uncertain for a moment, just stares at the towels and takes in the bathroom; he’s starting to shake before he quickly steps out of his clothes and gets one of the towels around his waist. It’s not a moment too soon because the door opens unexpectedly, and the older lady is back, handing him a pair of pale blue silken pajamas.

“They’re all I have,” she almost apologises. “But I think they should fit you.”

Lionel takes the clothes, feels the luxurious material between his fingers. “Thank you. This is more than you had to,” he mumbles, going red. “And I don’t even know your name.”

She waves a hand at him “It’s Rosa, and it’s nothing. Hurry and get changed, I have a pot of tea ready if you want to join me.”

The little girl is nowhere to be found when Lionel makes his way to the dining room, and Rosa is sitting there with the aforementioned pot of tea, as well as some biscuits and a book of crosswords that she’s going over.

Lionel takes a seat and gratefully accepts the cup of tea (honey and ginger, yum), letting the warmth seep into his insides.

“So what happened that had you arrive on my doorstep like a drowned puppy?” Rosa asks after a while.

“I went for a walk and got caught when it started raining,” Lionel blushes lightly. “I thought I was close enough to my car to run back but after a while, I realised I was lost. I’m really sorry for disturbing you.”

Rosa just waves her hand at him. “You did the right thing; staying out in the rain and getting even more lost would have been just stupid. My husband is away though, so unfortunately I can’t offer to take you back to your car; you may have to end up staying the night if the rain doesn’t stop.”

The thought had already crossed his mind, and although he didn’t really plan it, Lionel’s already coming to accept that he really doesn’t have a choice. “I can pay for the night, it’s not a problem,” he says. “And if there’s no rooms, I’m happy to sleep on the couch - I’m going to leave as soon as it’s safe tomorrow anyway.”

“We always have rooms on Tuesdays,” Rosa dismisses his offer. “Except for one regular guest, it’s not exactly the busiest day for us.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course now the most important question is, have you eaten?”

Lionel shakes his head sheepishly.

Rosa gives him a stern look. “I have some left over soup and bread from lunch today; it’s not much but it’s better than you going to sleep hungry.”

“Thank you,” Lionel says again, feeling like he’s a child and being scolded by his mother. “I’ll pay for dinner as well.”

Rosa just gets up and packs away the biscuits. “You just relax and I’ll get dinner heated for you. You can have the room at the top of the stairs, it’s already made up so go ahead and rest for a while. I’m sure there’s someone you need to call to let them know where you are.”

As Rosa heads to where he assumes the main kitchen is, Lionel just sits at the kitchen table sipping his tea. He knows he has to call Antonella soon, but for now, he’ll enjoy the peace and quiet and the sound of falling rain for just a little bit longer.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s three weeks before Lionel thinks about the B&B again, and once again it’s another stressful weekend that has him driving along the Spanish country-side just so he can think. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but when he sees the familiar village, he makes a snap decision and pulls in front of a florist to buy a bouquet of flowers, then drives down the laneways until he’s in front of the brightly coloured country house, trying to look for any signs that someone’s home.

Rosa had said that Tuesday was a quiet day for them, but Lionel hopes that she’s home; and if not, if someone was around, he could at least leave the flowers with them.

He’s about to look around the house to see if he should just leave the flowers at the doorstep when the hears a muffled woman’s voice from inside, and Lionel smiles as Rosa opens the door, already talking.

“Did you forget your keys ag-, oh!”

Rosa stares at Lionel in surprise, and he realises that she’s actually expecting someone else at the door.

“Hi Rosa,” he mumbles, unsure. “I was in the area and I thought I’d drop by to say hello. And um, I uh got you these.”

Lionel hesitantly sticks his hand out, hoping belatedly that she wasn’t allergic to anything in his bouquet, and sighs in relief when Rosa’s face lights up in delight.

“Oh you shouldn’t have!” she beams at him, pressing her face into the flowers. “Come in, let’s have a cup of tea and you can tell me what you’ve been up to since you were last here.”

He doesn’t mean to say yes, it wasn’t even his plan to be in the area after all, but Lionel finds he can’t say no and follows her into the kitchen. There’s a jacket thrown haphazardly on the back of one of the chairs, and Lionel points to it.

“You’re regular guest is here?” he asks.

Rosa looks at the jacket, hesitates for a moment, then replies, “yes, but he’s gone out for his walk and usually doesn’t come back until lunch.” She smiles at him then, probably noticing his relief. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long so you can leave before anyone realises the famous Lionel Messi was here.”

“Oh!” he says, and of course she would know who he is. Lionel’s not even sure why he’s surprised actually. “Um, thank you?”

Rosa just laughs lightly, then puts the kettle on and takes out some beautifully painted mugs (Lionel was too distracted to even remember what mugs he was using last time he was here) and biscuits to accompany the tea. He’s in the middle of a funny story about training, when the front door opens and they can hear footsteps coming towards them.

Lionel freezes, and to his alarm, so does Rosa. She’s hurriedly standing up, when suddenly they’ve got company.

“Rosa? Are you home? Guess what…”

Whatever the newcomer is saying becomes nothing but static background when Lionel comes to the realisation that he knows that voice.

“So I found these and I-” Cristiano Ronaldo stops at the doorway to the kitchen to gape at him.

Lionel gapes right back.

Rosa looks nervously between them. “Cristiano you know Lionel, yes? Remember how I told you I had an unexpected guest a few weeks go? It was him! And look he bought me flowers! How come you’ve never bought me flowers?”

It’s a rather desperate attempt to lighten the stunned atmosphere, and to everyone’s surprise, it works.

Cristiano blinks at her for a moment, then a slow smile crosses his face as he makes his way into the room. “I may not have a stunning bouquet such as those, but I did find these pretty wild flowers that I thought you might like.”

It’s Lionel’s turn to blink, because yes, his biggest rival is indeed holding up a rather droopy but colourful handful of flowers.

Rosa clasps her hands in genuine delight. “Oh they are beautiful,” she gushes. “Let me find a vase big enough for all these.”

When Rosa leaves the room, Cristiano’s smile finally slips, and Lionel’s surprised to see the Madrid forward look uncertain.

“Hello,” Cristiano says,” I didn’t realise you were coming to see Rosa. If I’d known, I would’ve stayed out to give you some privacy.”

“It was a surprise visit,” Lionel responds just as uncertain. “I was in the area and wanted to say thank you for what she did.”

“Rosa and Vittorio are thoughtful like that,” Cristiano nods.

There’s a rather awkward pause as they wait for Rosa to come back (where could she be? Surely it doesn’t take that long to find a vase?), and Lionel rather desperately tries to fill in the silence.

“So you’re the regular Tuesday night guest that Rosa mentioned?” he asks before he realises it’s a rather private question.

But Cristiano just nods. “I’ve been coming here for about a year now. As you can see, Tuesday isn’t exactly a busy time for her, and I enjoy having the place to myself.”

“All year?” Lionel asks, because surely in the warmer months the B&B would have more bookings.

“I’ve got the feeling that she and Vittorio turn down guests unless they know I won’t be coming,” Cristiano smiles fondly. “I feel bad but I try to make it up for them in other ways.”

“Like bringing her flowers?” Lionel can’t help tease. He knows his rival could buy Rosa a whole field of flowers if he wanted to, but picking them is a sweet gesture and probably be more appreciated.

The Portuguese grins at him, then asks, “will you be staying overnight again?”

“Huh? No, not planning to. The last time was an accident,” Lionel assures him quickly.

“Stay for lunch at least,” Cristiano says, “you shouldn’t have to cut short your visit just because I’m here. I can leave you both alone to catch up.”

“No, no, it’s not a problem,” Lionel says. “But I hate to intrude; I know you’re here because you want to be left alone and I should be the one going.”

“I’m here because here I know I won’t end up on the front page of AS or someone’s Instagram account,” Cristiano explains. “So unless you plan on telling the world that you stayed in some secluded B&B alone with me, it should be fine.”

There’s a challenging lift to his eyebrows that both irritates Lionel and makes him roll his eyes. “Yes Cristiano, I would very much like to invite all those annoying questions at the next presser,” he deadpans. “I just live for those moments where I get the opportunity to talk about you for a whole hour when it has nothing to do with actual football.”

Cristiano laughs loudly, somehow breaking the awkwardness of their situation, and Lionel smiles despite himself.

“Rosa’s making paella today,” the Madrid forward grins, taking a seat and pouring a cup of tea for himself. “And I brought a bottle of white wine with me; it should go well with the seafood.”

By the time Rosa comes back with a large crystal vase (I had to unpack it from storage! she tells them), they’re well into an a discussion on which biscuits are the best type to dunk into black tea. Lionel’s glad he decides to stay.


	3. Chapter 3

Next Tuesday, his feet take him there unbidden. Lionel knows he shouldn’t be coming back, that there’s no reason to be there, but every time he boils himself a cup of tea and shares a biscuit with Thiago, he thinks of Rosa and the B&B and wonders what it is that first brought Cristiano to the B&B that he now is a regular and obviously favourite guest.

Not that he’s competing to be the favourite or anything - dear Lord, they had enough footballing rivalries to last several lifetimes, he didn’t need any more areas in his life where he’s competing with the Madrid forward - but he can fully appreciate that there has to be something special for Cristiano to keep coming back.

Lionel isn’t sure if his rival will be there, and he’s mildly surprised to find that he’s not adverse to the idea of spending the afternoon with Cristiano again, but since going away for two weeks in a row seems to be a bit excessive even for a highly stressed footballer, he has no expectations.

He’s not even going to question the feeling of relief ghosting under his skin when a familiar face opens the door.

“No flowers this time?” Cristiano asks after a moment’s pause, eyebrows raised and the edges of his lips twitching.

Lionel lifts the paper bag in his hands. “Freshly baked cookies.”

Cristiano’s eyes widen and he makes grabby hands. “Please tell me you got those from the bakery opposite the post office in town?”

“They’re not for you,” Lionel says, holding the bag to his chest but smiling anyway. “Is Rosa in? Or are you going to leave me stranded on the doorstep all afternoon?”

Cristiano gives him a blinding smile and dutifully steps back. “She’s making tea actually, so you came just at the right now. Rosa! Guess who’s come to visit again?”

There’s a sound of a shuffling feet then Rosa’s voice. “Lionel! What a pleasant surprise!”

“I brought you cookies,” he says, giving her the paper bag and a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh lovely! Just in time for tea - you timed your arrival perfectly.”

“I have a good sixth sense for these things,” Lionel smiles as they head into the country kitchen.

“So what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Cristiano asks as he sets some saucers and teacups on the table. “That’s two weeks in a row you’re here now.”

Lionel doesn’t know if he’s imagining the trace of seriousness in the Madrid forward’s deceptively light tone, and he suddenly realises that he is more than likely intruding on Cristiano’s self-imposed private time. The fact that he has actually no real reason to be here hits him then, and he goes stiff, wondering if he should make his excuses and leave. Visiting Rosa was a good reason to come by last week, but this week?

He’s about to do just that, come up with an excuse and leave, but Cristiano catches his expression, looks at Rosa sharply then shakes his head minutely. Lionel frowns.

“Of course I understand that if you wanted to get away for an afternoon this is the perfect place,” Cristiano says, looking at him meaningfully. “Rosa and Vittoria must run the most peaceful B&B in Spain.”

Rosa looks up from the stove where the kettle is starting to whistle, and she smiles in pleasure at Cristiano’s words. “You’re such a flatterer, my boy; no wonder the girls find you irresistible.”

Cristiano gives Rosa his most fake wide-eyed innocent grin, but when she turns back to the stove, the playfulness slips and the intensity in which the Madrid forward is looking at him makes Lionel want to squirm uncomfortably.

“I do like the peacefulness here,” Lionel says lamely after Cristiano looks meaningfully at Rosa’s back and blinks at him deliberately. He sags in relief ever so slightly when the other man nods at his words. “And I think I’m actually starting to develop a taste for this high-brow tea you guys are drinking.”

It’s obviously the right thing to say, because Rosa beams at him from the top of her tray of tea stuffs and Cristiano sinks into a chair in relief. Lionel isn’t quite sure why the Portuguese is so intent on him being there despite the fact that Lionel’s pretty much the unwelcome and unexpected guest here. But he pushes that thought to the back of his mind while they enjoy their tea, even if he’s completely baffled by Cristiano’s behaviour.

Lionel is a patient man when he needs to be, and he waits until he is saying his good-byes before he confronts Cristiano. “Do I need to apologise or thank you?” he asks when they're at the door, coming straight to the point.

To Cristiano’s credit, he knows exactly what Lionel is talking about and doesn’t pretend otherwise. “Rosa likes having you here. They’ve been good to me this past year and I don’t think I can ever repay them for their kindness; it’s not a burden to want to do things that make her happy.” He says the last with a challenging lift of an eyebrow, and Lionel resists rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, then?” he asks instead.

Cristiano just shrugs. “I have nothing against you, Lionel, so having you around isn’t a burden either.” And because the Portuguese seems to have gotten very good at confounding Lionel, he adds almost nonchalantly. “And you’re welcome to stay overnight if you want to; there are plenty of bedrooms here and Rosa knows I don’t mind having you around.”

Lionel spends the drive back to Barcelona wondering at Cristiano’s behaviour, then trying to shut down the warmth in his belly at his rival’s words anyway.

Three weeks later he’s got a small duffle bag slung over his shoulders when Rosa opens the door to him, and Lionel makes his way up to one of the large bedrooms down the hall, acknowledging Cristiano’s poorly concealed smirk by flipping him off behind Rosa’s back.


	4. Chapter 4

Cristiano is standing there like a complete dolt and Lionel wants to strangle him. Instead, he settles for elbowing him in the ribs once Rosa turns around.

“Do something,” Lionel hisses under his breath.

“What do you expect me to do?” Cristiano demands, glaring at him and rubbing his side.

“I don’t know! But make sure she doesn’t go ahead with this!”

“I’m _trying_ ; maybe you can help rather than just stand there and frown at me?”

“You’re the favourite - you should be better at this than me.”

“If you think that I’ve got some magical way to make Rosa change her mind then you’re seriously not aware of how this relationship works, do you?”

Lionel is about to say something just as snarky when Rosa turns back to them. “Really, Rosa, you don’t have to,” he tries again, “because Cristiano is right, we can go find dinner on our own.” He tries to smile winsomely. “We’re big boys now, you know.”

Rosa gives him a distracted look. “Yes but how am I sure you’ll eat well wherever you go? I can’t guarantee that their cooking will be as healthy as mine - we can’t be too careful about the food you eat since you’re both playing this weekend - but at least at Amelia’s I’m pretty certain the food will be suitable.”

“And we’re happy to go there as your recommendation,” Lionel agrees hurriedly, “but  you paying for the meal is too much.”

At his words, Cristiano tries to give the money Rosa had handed to him earlier back to her, but she just glares at them. The Madrid forward sheepishly pulls his hand back to his side then glares at Lionel from underneath his lashes

“It’s part of your accommodation; you normally get dinner when you stay here and since I won’t be here to cook for you tonight, then I’ll be paying for your meal,” she says firmly, giving them a look that clearly means she is done with the conversation.

“Okay,” Lionel agrees, defeated.

This seems to make Rosa happy and she starts buzzing around her kitchen, excitedly talking about the party she and Vittorio would be going to tonight and wondering if wearing pearls to a friend’s house was much too showy.

Cristiano gives Lionel an exasperated look that clearly is meant to say “is that your version of ‘trying’?” but Lionel just shrugs.

At around 20.00 they hop in Lionel’s car and drive to the village, looking for Amelia’s restaurant, parking on the street when they spot it. It’s homely, not even half full yet at this slightly early hour, and the host, a man who looks to be in his early 60s, brings them automatically to a dimly lit corner booth and starts chattering away to them in rapid Spanish on their meals of the day and his recommendation. Whether he recognises them or not, Lionel can’t say, but half way through their meal, when he notices that the host is seating the guests towards the front and slightly away from them, that Lionel thinks he must and is choosing to give them privacy. Cristiano just nods when Lionel mentions this to him.

“There are a couple of places here - like the bakery and believe or not, the pub - that I go to where no-one really cares who I am. I’ve never been asked for an autograph, and the only time anyone acknowledged who I was when was when I got roped into an argument about cars.” Cristiano smiles at the memory. “It was really refreshing. I was called an ignorant toddler a few times - probably because most of them yelling at each other were old enough to be my grandfathers.”

“Cute,” Lionel smiles, picturing the scenario in his head. He looks around to see if the host is busy, then raises his hand slightly so that he can ask for some more water, then turns back to his dinner companion. “Do you think the people here know Rosa which is why they’re looking after us?”

“Possibly, but I also think they don’t really care who we are. It’s one of the reasons why I keep coming back.”

When they pay their bill an hour later and leave the restaurant without attracting any extra attention whatsoever, Lionel thinks that maybe accidentally getting caught in this village all those weeks ago may have been one of the best things to happen to him in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm back! I took a month-long hiatus from posting because of the [non VDay writing challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/nonVDay2017) that I hosted. It was _awesome_ , and I'm so grateful to everyone who participated! If you haven't read the entries, come say hello :) Any way, back to Leo and Cris!

It’s habit now, seeking the secluded protection of the B&B, and even though 9 out of 10 times he’s never alone, Lionel has come to not only accept it, but appreciate the company. Not that these sporadic Tuesday stays have made them best friends, but Lionel is learning to learn his rival, and one of the things he is discovering is that Cristiano has a dry wit that comes out subtly but often, and in the short span of time that they’d been staying at the B&B at the same time (never together, because these stays are never actually planned), Lionel has realised that the Madrid forward is very good at getting under his skin without actually trying. 

It’s not that Cristiano ever goes out of his way to be deliberately annoying or antagonistic, but sometimes Lionel can’t help wanting to scream in frustration at how effortless it is to become flustered at Cristiano’s dry and self-assured demeanour.

And it can be just the smallest things, like when Lionel forgets to take his shoes off when he comes in and Cristiano, rather than tell him to take them off like a normal person would, would tsk in disapproval then head for the closet where Rosa kept the vacuum cleaner to clean up after him. Or when Cristiano would order take out for them on the Tuesdays when Rosa wasn’t around to cook them dinner because Lionel would always forget. Or when Lionel would wake up with a comforter around his shoulders because he’d fallen asleep on the couch again while listening to the rain and the crackling of the fireplace.

Lionel, at some level, realises that the Portuguese is just being helpful, but he can’t shake the feeling that there’s a slight condescension to Cristiano’s actions, and one of Lionel’s pet peeves has always been people fussing over him. And Cristiano manages to fuss over him while at the same time somehow making it look like he’s making fun of Lionel when they both know he’s actually _not_ , which makes it even worse.

He’s startled awake one day by the sound of a light pop, which in the calming silence is almost as loud as a gunshot. Looking around, he sees that it had come from Cristiano, who is sitting up and applying sunscreen again.

Lionel scowls.

Cristiano catches him scowling, and rolls his eyes. “What?” the other man asks.

Lionel’s brain-to-mouth filter lets him down when he says, “didn’t you think to put on sunscreen before you came out to sunbathe?”

Cristiano just lifts one immaculate eyebrow at him. “You’re supposed to reapply every four hours.”

“No you’re not,” Lionel’s petulant mouth says before his brain can stop him.

“Says so right here on the bottle.” And not half a second later, Lionel has to catch the bottle of sunscreen being thrown at his head, lest it brain him.

“You fucker,” he mutters under his breath once he sees that his rival is correct.

The Madrid forward just smirks at him. “I’d make use of my generosity if I were you. Unless you want to show up to training looking like a lobster.” And with that, Cristiano lies back down, puts his glasses over his eyes and his headphones on, effectively dismissing Lionel.

It takes everything in him not to throw the bottle back at the infuriating man’s head. Instead, he applies some sun protection and lies back down to catch the last of the autumn warmth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting just in time for El Clásico, it seems.

“It’s going to rain.”

“No it’s not.”

“Did you even check the weather forecast? 80% chance before noon.”

“Have you even been outside? It’s freaking sunny as shit.”

“Still doesn’t mean anything. There’s a spare umbrella by the door.”

“The umbrella's bright pink with Pokémon on it - I am not taking that.”

“Why not? It’s an umbrella - it'll keep you dry when it rains.”

“First of all, I'm supposed to be staying inconspicuous, remember? So tell me which part of ‘inconspicuous’ is that umbrella supposed to be contributing to? Secondly, it’s not going to rain.”

“It’s Rosa’s granddaughter’s umbrella, hence the Pokémon.”

“I’m not taking it!” Cristiano hisses, now practically as red as a tomato.

They’d been having this circular argument all breakfast, and Lionel is pretty sure that Cristiano is ready to stab him with the bread knife if Lionel talks about the weather anymore. 

Lionel grins; needling Cristiano is one of his favorite pasttimes, after all. “Don’t come crying to me when you come back absolutely soaked from your walk because you didn’t take an umbrella.”

“AGH!” the Madrid forward practically yells, getting up from the breakfast table with a huff and stalking towards the hutch for more coffee.

Lionel calmly finishes his muesli.

Three hours later, Lionel is basking in the sun room like a lizard, reading a lifestyle and garden magazine and sipping some herbal tea. He’s content as can be to laze around before the late lunch, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the relaxing pitter-patter sound of the rain whilst staying dry.

Which is more than he can say about his Madrid counterpart.

“Not. One. Word,” Cristiano growls when he trudges in through the back door, shoes muddy and looking like a drowned cat.

Lionel respects the other man’s wishes and remains silent. But he does smirk. Quite smugly. This makes Cristiano’s nostrils flare and Lionel feel even more smug. Lionel calmly goes to the linen closet to grab a couple of the fluffy towels that Rosa stores there.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia if you just stand there,” Lionel says, throwing the towels at the other man’s head.

Cristiano glares at him but starts drying his hair, muttering under his breath the whole time.

Lionel sighs dramatically. “I’ve taken your bag down already - it’s in the bathroom. You can get changed there; I don’t think Rosa’s going to appreciate you stomping through the house all wet and muddy like that.”

Cristiano gives him a surprised look, but forgoes making anymore smart comments; he mumbles a soft “thanks” before heading for the downstairs bathroom.

Lionel sits back and sips the rest of his tea. He’d done his good deed for the week, now he didn’t have to feel bad about scoring on the Madrid man on the weekend.


	7. Chapter 7

“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU CRISTIANO RONALDO!” Lionel screams at the top of his lungs. “I SWEAR TO GOD WHEN I GET DOWN FROM HERE I’M GOING TO GUT YOU WITH MY GARDEN SCISSORS!”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THIS ISN’T MY FAULT?” Cristiano yells right back.

“WHO THE HELL ELSE’S FAULT IS IT SUPPOSED TO BE?”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”

Lionel closes his eyes, clenches his fists and breathes deeply in an effort to control his temper. He hopes and prays that when he opens his eyes, it would have all been a bad dream. He lifts one eyelid, peeking out slowly and ugh. Nope. Nothing has changed; he’s still up a fucking tree with no way down. Lionel takes another deep breath then starts yelling again.

“DIDN’T I TELL YOU NOT TO CLIMB THE ROOF? DIDN’T I? DIDN’T I? IF YOU HAD ONLY LISTENED TO ME WE WOULDN’T BE STUCK. I SWEAR TO GOD AT THE NEXT GAME I’M GOING TO SCORE ON YOUR FUCKING ASS FOR NOT LISTENING TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

Lionel honestly can’t believe that he’s literally stuck up a tree he can’t get down from without severely injuring himself, and that his Madrid counterpart is in the exact same sorry state, but this time stuck on the roof. How had the simple plan of decorating the backyard for Rosa’s party on the weekend come to this? He had _told_ Cristiano not to take the ladder while he was still up the tree tying Christmas lights to the branches. But _nooooooo_ , the idiot had decided to “save time” by decorating the roof and had somehow managed to kick the ladder off from where it was resting against the wall. So now they’re both stuck with no way down and Lionel was ready to murder his counterpart. He’s happily thinking about all the things he can superglue to Cristiano’s shoes in retaliation, when naturally, it starts raining.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lionel whispers in disbelief. Then, “CRISTIANO RONALDO IF I GET SICK BECAUSE I’M STUCK UP THIS FUCKING TREE I’M NOT ONLY GOING TO SCORE ON YOUR ASS I’M GOING TO DIVE FOR A PENALTY AS WELL!”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU COMPLAINING WHEN I’M THE ONE EXPOSED OUT HERE?”

“SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR BEING A DUMB KNOW-IT-ALL AND NOT LISTENING TO ME!”

Before they can start screaming obscenities at each other through the rain, they hear Vittorio call out, “Cristiano what in the world are you doing on the roof?! And where the hell is Lionel?!”

It’s only five minutes before Vittorio manages to get them both down and thankfully the rain doesn’t get any stronger, but they’re still wet when they enter the back door.

Rosa takes one look at them and sighs. “Strip and get changed into dry clothes you two,” she orders.

Lionel heads for the bathroom just as Cristiano does; they glare at each other.

“Separately!” Rosa tuts loudly. “I do know what footballers get up to in change rooms and I’m not taking any chances of you both desecrating by bathroom.”

All of a sudden Lionel’s face is blazing hot as the sun and he gapes soudflessly at Rosa’s words.

“Rosa, it’s not like that,” Cristiano objects weakly, and Lionel is relieved to see that the Madrid forward seems to be just as horrified by what Rosa is implying.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Rosa asks with a lift of her eyebrows. “I’ve seen all those celebratory videos where you all tip beer over each other and jump all over the benches. I’m not going to take the chance of you two throwing my soaps and spilling my expensive lotions all over each other while you fight some more. One of you upstairs please.”

Lionel is only slightly relieved that he’s totally misinterpreted what Rosa meant, and he quickly takes off his shoes and runs upstairs, never once making eye contact with the other footballer, just wanting to escape already.

He’s still going to superglue shit to Cristiano’s shoes, though.

**Author's Note:**

> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


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